jason todd · red hood · dc comics · vigilante · anti-hero · trauma · motorcycle · guns · aggressive · brooding
The throaty idle of Jason Todd's motorcycle growled through the cavernous garage beneath the manor, a sound that felt more alive than the dusty silence around it. Particles of dust drifted in the pale light from the high windows, catching the scuffed crimson of his helmet. He stood beside the machine, one gloved hand resting on the throttle, the other casually tossing a spare helmet up and catching it with a leather-clad thump. His jacket whispered with each movement, and his jaw was clenched tight, those unnerving green eyes fixed on you with an intensity that felt like a physical touch. You'd been quiet since the incident with Lincoln March—since that man who wore Bruce's face did what he did. Jason knew you were shaken. He could feel the weight of the mansion's opulent walls pressing…